MTL - Divine Card Creator - Chapter 1 Hello world

Have you ever thought a monster that has a job of a summoner and a tamer

what should it call itself Monster Summoner? Monster Tamer? but he itself was a monster too

Watch as our mc travels the world as an reincarnated human who turn into a monster

In a prehistoric age when all things in the world had no names,God descended.God created life, reason, light...He separated the darkness, and brought life from the underwater cradle to land.He bestowed language upon the ape-men, freeing them from the realm of beasts.He chose the first prophet of the world, who led the entire civilization's history, the descendants of the prophet later established a great nation.......In the golden age that followed, people left God and dispersed across the world.Many things were forgotten, leaving history to be buried by time.Yet life is a return.People will eventually remember,In this story, God first loved the world.

“Sect Master! Marry me!”If only things were that simple.Fang Yuan lets out a long sigh, eyes fixed on the mountain of paperwork threatening to swallow his desk and his soul.As the youngest family head in history, you’d think he’d be enjoying fame, fortune, and fawning admirers.Instead, he’s buried in bureaucracy, stuck mediating elder disputes, and wondering if the sect treasury mysteriously eats spirit stones.Sure, the old geezers have their experience, their beards, and their lofty reputations.But Fang Yuan? He has one thing they don’t: raw, unshakable power.Born into a world where innate talent reigns supreme, Fang Yuan—a transmigrator armed with modern grit—actually managed the impossible: he clawed his way to the top with nothing but relentless hard work.While everyone else coasted on heavenly bloodlines and golden physiques, he trained, he studied, and he schemed.Now, he’s strong enough to bend heaven’s will.But cultivation isn’t all sword beams and glory.Life as a family head comes with its own set of woes—namely, watching his annoyingly handsome junior brother collect all the female attention like some kind of walking romance novel.“This isn’t fair,” Fang Yuan mutters under his breath, stamping another scroll. “I’m the protagonist here... right?”

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.